


Until You Come Home

by Bitch_In_The_Blue



Series: GTA Drabbles, One Shots, Outtakes, and AUs [11]
Category: Grand Theft Auto Series (Video Games), Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Birthday, Break Up, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Loss, Depression, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Knives, Love, Missing Persons, Mugging, Multi, Older Man/Younger Woman, Post-Canon, Resentment, Returning Home, Robbery, Secrets, Stalking, Strippers & Strip Clubs, Toxic Relationship, Unhealthy Relationships, Women In Power, au from other fic, implied/ referenced child death, reluctance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:13:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27640529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bitch_In_The_Blue/pseuds/Bitch_In_The_Blue
Summary: In this AU from SIX, Trevor was not killed but was only missing. Returning almost two years later to Los Santos under a false name to try to resume life as it was before.Tommie, who was unable to truly move on from his loss, is forced to choose whether or not life as before is what she wants.
Relationships: Amanda De Santa/Original Male Character(s), Franklin Clinton/Tracey De Santa, Michael De Santa/Original Female Character(s), Original Female Character(s)/ Original Female Character(s), Trevor Philips/Original Female Character(s)
Series: GTA Drabbles, One Shots, Outtakes, and AUs [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/996552
Comments: 4
Kudos: 8





	1. Twenty Five

_September, 2018_   
  
“Happy birthday to yoooou!”   
Tommie blew out the burning shot glass before downing the drink inside.   
Avalon, Amanda, Simon, and the strippers and security guards of the Vanilla Unicorn cheered for their employer’s twenty fifth birthday celebration, then each raised their own glass and followed with shots.   
“Jesus, you’re trying to _kill_ me,” Tommie told Amanda, still wincing from the burn of the liquor long after it’d traveled down her throat.   
“Hey, you asked for the strong stuff,” Amanda shrugged with a grin.   
“ _Strong is right_ ,” Avalon interjected, setting her empty shot glass on the bar counter and pulling her long, straightened hair behind her shoulders. She fanned her face. “This is practically glass cleaner, Mandy.”   
“Can I get another?” Simon asked, pulling off his hoodie. Feeling the same rush of boozy warmth as Avalon.   
“ _One_ ,” Tommie reminded him, extending an arm to clap him on the shoulder. “I need you sharp, remember? I need _everybody_ to be sharp. That’s how we make our tips, right?”   
She got an unenthusiastic agreement from her employees. Of course they wanted to turn her birthday into an excuse to take it easy tonight. They could wait until closing. After all, it wasn't really her birthday until _tomorrow._   
  
Tommie’s headphones drowned out the bass-heavy, overtly sexual tones of the music beyond her office door.   
She usually liked what the DJ played, but she just wasn’t in the mood for horny pop music today.   
Instead, something more mellow. A couple of songs she’d heard on Radio Mirror Park throughout the last week or so. She had them queued up on different tabs of her browser.   
Her main page, a spreadsheet of the Unicorn’s income over the last year.   
Nearly two years since she took charge of the place.   
  
Two whole years.  
She hated thinking about the passage of time.  
So little had gone by and felt like an eternity.  
Just two years.  
  
Tommie huffed and paused her music to try to gather herself.  
Come on, today and tomorrow are supposed to be _good_ days. She was turning twenty five. Over that hump of early adulthood and into being a more mature, actual adult.  
What's an adult, if not someone who can move on from the past?  
  
She reached for the 'play' button to resume business-  
And a knock came perfectly timed that she could hear it before she compressed the key.   
"Come in!" She called while removing the Bluetooth buds from her ears.   
Simon entered. "Hey, there's some guy here looking for you."  
“Looking for _me?_ ” Tommie’s brows furrowed. "Did he say why?"  
"He's not saying. He doesn’t have any ID either. Tall, kinda skinny, looks and smells like three week old roadkill?"  
"No idea who that could be," she sighed. That _would’ve_ fit Trevor’s description, if he were alive. "Tell him I'm busy. He can come back some other time or wait until I find some free time."  
Simon winced. "He doesn't seem like the _patient_ type."  
"Well that's just too bad," She shrugged. “I’m not on _his_ time. He can leave if he doesn’t wanna wait.”   
Simon shrugged in reply. “I’ll let him know.”  
Just as Simon turned to leave the office, they heard a loud crash and a couple of the girls shrieked.   
“Jesus-” Simon gasped, rushing for the door.   
Tommie instinctively followed in tow. Straight outside of the office door, past the stage entrance, into the dressing room- where a bum, presumably Diego Santiago, was grappling with one of the other bouncers on the ground near an overturned chair.   
Some of the strippers who had been backstage were hugging the walls, trying to maintain distance from the scene while Simon joined in with helping subdue the stranger.   
“Call the cops,” Tommie urgently told the girls, feeling slight relief in seeing that the two younger, stronger men were able to restrain the intruder.   
One of the girls, Layla, bolted to her locker to grab her phone to call 911.   
Tommie, however, approached the scene. Morbidly curious.   
There wasn’t much to go off of, but something about him was off.   
“Get him out of the dressing room,” Tommie ordered, and he was hauled to his feet.   
She didn’t recognize him at all, not even as he was being forcibly pulled out of the club. And he was asking for her?   
  
It took the police forty minutes to show up and take the vagrant away.   
When asked, Tommie told them what she knew- which was absolutely nothing.   
She and the stranger didn’t know each other; and his ‘asking for her’ had just been ‘asking to talk to the boss’.   
She suspected he meant whoever was the boss _before_ 2013\. Before Trevor came to own the Unicorn, and long before _she_ did.   
  
She didn’t plan on pressing charges.   
No one was hurt, nothing was _broken_ , and it’s not like this man (who was obviously down on his luck) had anything worth suing over-- not that she was the suing type.   
Hell, she wasn’t even the ‘call the cops’ type. But for the sake of keeping the peace (the legal, above the board way) in the club…   
“-so, we’re gonna be tightening security,” Tommie said. She’d called an all-hands meeting as soon as the shift was over and her employees were gearing up to go home for the day. “I plan on hiring at _least_ four more people for the security team and possibly branching out to a security _company_ for a faster response to emergency calls- because let’s face it, it took forty fucking minutes for the cops to show up. A _pizza delivery driver_ would show up faster and probably get the job done quicker.”   
One of the strippers, Champagne, was first to ask a question. “Do you think just adding people is gonna be good enough security? What if that guy had a gun or something?”   
“We can’t really deal in what-ifs,” Tommie frowned. “I hate to say it, but we can only legally do so much… What we _can_ do is set up a metal detector at the door, possibly get our guys permits to have tasers or mace or something.”   
The team didn’t look very convinced- understandably.   
If one delusional vagrant could wander in and make it that far into the club, what would an armed gunman do?   
She had to plan for ‘Trevors’, basically.   
“I’m sorry it isn’t much to go on right now. I understand if anyone wants to take some time off; but _please_ , rest assured, I won’t let anything bad happen to any of you. We _are_ a team… Anyway,” she sighed. “Meeting adjourned, anybody else with questions can hang back, everyone else: have a good day, see you next shift and thank you for the birthday shots.”   
  
A couple of the girls had requested some time off after the meeting was over- primarily the ones who had been _in_ the back room during the scuffle.   
Tommie was more than willing to give them the time off, of course.   
After that, she returned to her office to make note of all the tasks she would need to start on her next shift.   
It was 2AM before she was ready to leave- and as usual, she was the last person to go.   
A quick glance around to make sure the place was clean, the front doors were locked, the lights were off, and the bar was properly stocked; then she headed out through the back office.   
She hummed a flat ‘Happy Birthday’ to herself while she locked the back door, now officially twenty five years old and planning to sleep half of the day away.   
Not very exciting, but it was at least comfortable.   
At most, time with her mom and Michael- which didn’t sound great, given that Michael didn't seem to have much to say to her without Trevor in the picture. Not even now that he and Lita were married.  
“Fuckin’ _Michael_ ,” Tommie bitterly muttered under her breath at the thought. Heading around the back of the building to her car.   
  
A kiss to her cheek woke her up.   
“Happy birthday, babe.”   
“Thanks, babe,” Tommie groggily replied. She cracked her eyes open against the sunlight peeking through the curtains so she could check her phone.   
10:00, she’d slept for about seven and a half hours.   
No notifications other than dozens of ‘happy birthday’ posts on her LifeInvader profile. All of which she would ignore until the day was over so she could post a blanket ‘thank you’ statement.   
“Anything you wanna do tonight?” Blake asked, leaving her side at the bed to finish getting ready for work. He’d planned to be off early tonight.   
“Uhhhh,” Tommie turned over onto her stomach to scroll through various other social media profiles. Both her personal accounts and the ones she managed for the Unicorn. “Maybe we--” go to Bahama Mama’s? He’d never go for it. He had to work tomorrow too, so drinks were officially off the table. “I dunno, go for dinner somewhere?”   
“Where do you wanna go?”   
“I’ll find somewhere,” she replied. “I’ll get back to you on it.”   
“Want me to make the reservations?”   
“Nah, I can do it.”   
“Cool,” he came over and stole another kiss. “I’m heading out, I’ll have my phone nearby. Love you.”   
“Love you too,” she said, as he was leaving the bedroom.   
Seconds later, the apartment was silent once more, and she got up to follow her daily routine.   
Weird to think she only moved into this apartment almost exactly two years ago. It felt like an eternity.   
Everything did.   
  
_“What happened at the club last night?”_ Avalon’s text came at 6PM, when the club was getting ready to open for the evening.   
Tommie replied to her text, stating what happened and what they were planning to take care of it.   
Avalon didn’t seem excited about the expenses, but she wanted what was right for the club too. Her last reply was one last ‘happy birthday’ and she told Tommie to have fun.   
  
Dinner reservations were for 7:30 at Viendemorte in Rockford Plaza. A short drive from home. She’d dressed up for the occasion, wearing a nice dress and some heels. Rare, since her time in Vice City.   
She and Blake met up at the restaurant.   
Dinner was nice- but overpriced to hell.   
Blake wanted to pay, but Tommie handed their server her card before he could.   
“You don’t have to pay for everything,” Blake told her after their server left the table.   
“It’s expensive here,” she told him. “I don’t mind.”   
“It’s kinda the boyfriend’s job to treat his girlfriend when it’s her birthday.”   
“It’s a little different when the girlfriend picks somewhere pricey to eat _and_ makes bank.”   
Blake sighed. They’d had this conversation a million times before. She knew he didn’t like when she paid for everything. Like it was an insult to _his_ income.   
“At least let me leave the tip,” Blake said.   
“You can leave the tip,” Tommie nodded. “You don’t need my _permission_ .”   
He looked like he wanted to say something in reply, but chose not to.   
When their server returned, he dropped a fifty for the tip, and they left their table.   
They arrived separately, so they would head home separately as well.   
They parted ways at the front door of the restaurant- Blake heading across the street to the plaza’s parking lot, and Tommie heading further out to the SAP garage a couple blocks away.   
A five minute walk in a well lit, decently populated area of town. She wasn’t worried- though she didn’t love this walk in _heels_ . At least the weather was pleasant. She could go with or without the jacket folded under her arm while she enjoyed the sounds of the city at night. It was a Wednesday, so there weren’t very many people partying. Things were quiet.   
  
She reached the parking garage, quickly becoming aware that she wasn’t alone when she heard scuff as she neared the pay stations.   
Shit…   
She scanned her ticket, and her bank card through the machine, a ten second process.   
Now that she knew someone was there with her, she was hyper-aware of the approaching footsteps. Quiet, but definitely there.   
The guy from the club last night had been looking for her. Was he stalking her now? How did he know she would be here?   
She moved quickly to the elevators beside the machines, hitting the button to go up and instantly relieved when the doors immediately opened.   
She rushed inside and mashed the button to close the doors, but the man following her bolted for the elevator and was able to wedge himself inside before the doors closed.   
Tommie reacted on instinct, sliding her switchblade out of her jacket, allowing the garment to drop to the floor as she shoved the man against the wall of the elevator and opened the blade. His hands on her shoulders to try to shove her back. Tip of the blade against his throat daring him to move an inch.   
“ _BACK OFF_ _!_ ” She barked, finally coming from the blur of the moment to look him in the face.   
And he finally looked at hers.   
“Holy shit-” she lowered the knife slightly. Unsure of whether she could trust her own eyes, especially as fresh tears blurred her vision. “Trevor...?”   
He looked different now- scruffier, messier. Like he’d been living in the sewers and in dark alleyways since she last saw him. He’d grown a scraggly, unkempt beard, he’d grayed more-- but sure enough, it was him. She knew those sad brown eyes anywhere, filling with tears just like hers.   
He couldn’t even find the words to respond, just staring back at her in simultaneous shock and awe as their grip on each other relaxed. But only for a second- until they threw their arms around each other and held tight.   
  
It took an extra ten minutes just to get to her car now that they were together. Having stayed in the elevator for a long few minutes, crying together, before she even pressed the button to go to the third level where her car was parked.   
“Trevor-” she started, after they both got into her car. Voice trembling, throat feeling tight. “Where the fuck have you been?”   
“I ended up in Las Venturas,” he answered. Still pulling himself together, like she was.   
“Why didn’t you come home?” She didn’t even think to put her keys in the ignition. Only sitting there with him. Time frozen. “I was at the airport. I _waited_ for you for-- _hours_.”   
He paused, like he didn’t know how to begin to explain. “Michael and Franklin tried to kill me.”   
She looked over at him in equal parts shock and confusion.   
“It was about you,” he added. “They thought I did something to you- or that I was _going_ to do something to you.”   
Thinking back, she hadn’t spoken to either of them, or her mother, in the days before Trevor ‘died’. She just suddenly ghosted them. Having prepared to just leave San Andreas behind like it never happened.   
They had to have thought she’d been killed. Given Trevor’s track record. _  
_ “What did they tell you?”   
Her fingers curled into fists where they rested on her lap. “They told me you died. That you crashed your truck in the oil fields and it caught fire and you burned alive.”   
  
Not very far from the truth.   
Trevor did crash into a tanker in the oil fields. He’d been doused in gasoline, as had his truck. Franklin had a gun pointed directly at him, but never took the shot. And Michael found that he couldn’t either.   
So they told him to go. And that they’d change their minds if they saw or heard from him again. They set his truck alight for emphasis. He could remember hearing the vehicle explode from a distance. And sirens of various emergency vehicles approaching the growing plume of black smoke in the night sky, illuminated only by the flames.   
He ran, and hid. Just like how he ran and hid away from North Yankton twelve years before that. Hitched the first flight out of San Andreas, and ended up in Las Venturas.   
  
“Well… I didn’t.” He finally said.   
“Why didn’t you call me?” Tommie asked, finally putting her keys in the ignition and starting the car. She didn’t know where to even drive to, but she just wanted to move.   
“I couldn’t.”   
“Two years and you couldn’t fucking _call_ me?” She retorted. “You couldn’t just let me know you weren’t dead?”   
“I didn't want 'em to find out if I did. They'd just follow you to me.”   
“Well what makes _now_ different?” She asked, irate. “Why did you come back? How long have you been here- why didn’t you find me? I could've kept it quiet.”   
“Because _now_ it’s been two fucking years and they might not be worried about me anymore.” He replied. Hesitating to say more. “I got here three weeks ago. I wanted to find you. I tried to a few times but I didn’t know how to talk to you after this long.”   
Tommie let out a bland chuckle after a few seconds. “Of course we end up meeting again with you trying to mug me.”

Her phone chimed. Likely Blake asking if she was on her way home.  
“And _you_ getting ready to stab me,” he added with a thin smile. Buckling his seatbelt now that they were moving. “Which is a real turn on, by the way. I don’t remember you being so _primal_.”   
“Shut the fuck up,” she replied through a chuckle.   
Comfort, for the first time in two years.   
  
“So… Where are we heading?” They’d reached a red light, out in Rockford Hills- not far from the apartment.   
“I don’t really know,” Tommie replied. “A hotel?”   
“Why can’t we go home?”   
Because Blake was there.   
She didn’t want to tell Trevor about Blake.   
She certainly couldn’t tell Blake about Trevor either. Or _anyone_ , for that matter.   
"I just wanna set you up somewhere you won't be seen," she told him. Which was true.   
  
She set him up in the Von Crastenburg hotel. Close enough to where she could find him, but out of the way enough that no one else would.   
The room was a pretty good size. Clean, comfortable- he’d be fine here. And she’d help him get some clean clothes tomorrow.   
“I haven’t slept in a bed in like a month,” Trevor noted.   
Tommie leaned against the door, watching him settle in. "Where were you staying up 'til now?"  
"Cheap garage out in East Los," he said and sat on the edge of the bed. Lying back comfortably. "It's abandoned. Nobody really comes around."   
“Well- you don’t have to worry about that now,” she told him. “I want you to stay here.”   
“Thought I might go back to the titty bar. The old base of operations.”   
“It’s not the same place anymore, Trev.”   
“New management?”   
“Yeah, _me_.”   
He sat up, incredulous. “ _You_?”   
“Someone had to run it after you were gone,” she nodded, arms crossing. “Fixed it up, hired a new staff- we make a lot of money.”   
He nodded in reply. Seeming to be proud of her. “You changed a lot since I left. You’re more--” he snapped his fingers, trying to find the words. “- sure of yourself.”   
“I didn’t really have a choice.”   
Silence for a short moment- before her phone chimed again. Another message from Blake, asking where she was.   
“What are you so dressed up for, anyway?”   
“It’s my birthday. I'm twenty five now. Gettin’ old, right?”   
“Well... You’re still as _hot_ as you were five years ago.”   
“Psh- _thanks_.” She chuckled, and her smile was like seeing a sunrise.   
He wanted her to stay all night. Just to keep talking. Just so he could see her smile again, even for a second. “So… how was the day?”   
“It was good,” she nodded, smile remaining. It was contagious. “Really good… I’m glad you decided to rob me tonight. I really missed you.”   
“I missed you too.” He wished he could kiss her. He’d wanted to for so long- and here she was. Beautiful, all dressed up like a nicely wrapped present.   
Still caring for him, even when she didn’t have to. Like she always had.   
He wanted to tell her he loved her.   
And he knew she could see it.   
“I know,” she said, like she could read his thoughts, seeming to choke up a little bit. Leaving her spot at the door to come closer. Trevor wrapped his arms around her middle when she was in reach, and she held tightly onto him in return. Cradling his head to her chest, he could hear her heartbeat. Feel the warmth of her body through her clothes. It brought tears to his eyes and he squeezed them shut to fight it back. Feeling alive again.   
Like he was finally home. 


	2. Old Patterns

It was difficult to finally part ways.    
The only thing that brought Tommie back to reality was that Blake kept messaging her and asking where she was.   
She called him as she was heading back to her car. She said she was stuck in gridlock traffic and couldn’t move an inch until a car wreck was cleared out of the road.   
He didn’t sound like he believed it, but he accepted it nonetheless. She’d been gone for almost two extra hours.   
It was well after ten by the time she pulled into her assigned parking spot in the lot.   
She needed to get ready for bed.    
Exhausted, but in a good way. For once.   
  
The elevator doors opened on her floor, and she entered her apartment to see the lights were still on. Blake was still awake and waiting for her, leaving his spot on the couch as she entered.   
“Good, you’re home,” he greeted. “I was worried about you.”   
“Sorry,” she winced. “I should’ve called. But there was a cop  _ right  _ next to me, and-”   
“I know there wasn’t an accident,” he said. “I checked the traffic app before I called you. Where were you really?”   
“Where do  _ you  _ think I was?” She asked pointedly, stepping out of her heels and pushing them aside.   
“You could just  _ tell  _ me instead of making it a guessing game.”   
“Maybe I don’t want to disclose everything I do. I shouldn’t have to.” She dropped her dirtied jacket onto the couch in passing, heading for the bathroom to shower. Trevor’s clothes had smelled. She knew it rubbed off onto her.   
She would get him some fresh clothes tomorrow.   
Blake followed behind her. “Maybe you  _ need _ to,” he stopped in the bathroom’s doorway while she turned on the hot water and undressed. “Maybe it’s sketchy for my  _ girlfriend  _ to come home late, lie to me, dodge questions, and immediately get in the shower.”   
“Ugh, fuck, Blake,” Tommie groaned and got under the water. “I’m a lot of terrible things, but I’m  _ not _ a cheater. You  _ know _ this, and yet you still don’t trust me. Are you ever going to!?”   
“I’m not worried about you cheating, I’m worried about the  _ ‘a lot of terrible things’  _ part,” he said. “You have a fucking body count and you can’t keep secrets from me.”   
“I haven’t done  _ anything  _ wrong.”   
“So where’d you go, then?”   
“I can’t tell you,” she firmly replied. “I need you to trust me for  _ once _ that I’m keeping something quiet for a reason.”   
Blake drew in a deep breath and let out a sigh. Then left her to finish her shower. Going to bed without her.   
  
Blake had gone to work already by the time she woke up; and now with the day to herself, she had time to get Trevor settled in until she had to go to work.   
She had to dig deep in the closet, but she found the trash bag full of Trevor’s old clothes.    
She couldn’t bring herself to get rid of them, despite Blake’s disapproval.    
He said it was bad for her to keep souvenirs from someone who was so toxic- and he was kinda right. But she didn’t want to let go of the last remnants of him either.   
Now she was glad she didn’t listen.   
She found a couple sets and shoved them into a backpack- shirts, pants, a pair of shoes- then set the bag aside to move deeper into the closet to open up the safe she kept hidden under some folded blankets.   
Inside, a burner phone and its charger.   
She pocketed those, re-concealed the safe and bag of clothes, then headed out.   
  
Trevor was still asleep when she arrived at his door.   
He opened up looking disoriented, hair messier than last night. Dark circles under his eyes.   
“Hey,” she softly greeted. Happy to see him all over again.   
“Hey,” he said back, a noticeable light in his eyes as soon as he saw her. Like it was the first time again.    
He stepped aside for her and she entered.   
“I brought you some stuff,” she said. “So you can at least stop  _ smelling _ like you’re homeless.”

"Thanks," he seemed off today. Like he still was still processing the reality of the situation.  
  
Not to mention, they'd fallen into a familiar old pattern. 

One where Trevor clearly wanted to move forward, and Tommie didn't know what to do.    
Neither of them knew how to proceed.   
Things were different since their last meeting; and T revor didn’t even know just how different they were yet.   
He was proceeding with noticeable caution, and that was strange for him.  
  
She set the backpack on the bed, and he came over to look through it. She’d stopped at the store on her way over and got him a small bag of travel sized toiletries- in case the hotel’s wasn’t enough for today and tomorrow.   
“Are these mine?”   
“Yeah,” she nodded. “I kept what was at the apartment... I got you a burner phone too.”   
“You don’t have to do this much.”   
“I care about you, so… Yes I do.”   
He gave her a familiar look; and she knew he wanted to say he loved her. It was how he said ‘thank you’. But he held it in because he didn’t know if she’d say it back.    
Like the old days, before she was ready.   
“I’m gonna take a shower,” he said instead, grabbing the entire backpack and bringing it to the bathroom.   
Tommie opened her mouth to speak, but realized by the time the bathroom door closed that she didn’t even know what to say.   
Watching him behave so differently was strange.   
Painful.   
  
While Trevor was in the bathroom, Tommie had her phone in hand. Knee anxiously bouncing, debating on the next move.   
There were too many options.   
She needed to set Trevor up in a more permanent location. His trailer in Sandy Shores was still hollowed out from her last visit when she showed it to Simon. Likely, again, being used as a drug den.    
If she could, she’d avoid Ron and Wade all together.   
She might possibly have to tell Blake. Maybe Avalon. She couldn’t keep up this charade alone. Someone would get suspicious of her movements. Blake already was. Avalon would need to know why Tommie was soon to ask her about all the surprise shift changes.   
And what about Simon?    
  
And what would they do about Franklin and Michael?   
  
Trevor emerged from the bathroom, and Tommie did a double take.   
“Jeez,” she said. “You really cleaned up.”   
Trevor ran a hand over his scalp, looking more like himself without the beard- and now also without  _ any  _ hair at all. “Did you prefer the homeless look?”   
“I actually like this,” she smiled. “Shaved head’s a pretty good look for you.”

He rolled up the sleeves of his red flannel shirt, baring the knife tattoo on his right forearm.   
The one that used to match hers. Hers was now a memorial piece for him, and was rendered unnecessary. Like the cross on his arm for Michael.

She found herself absently rubbing her thumb over the piece through her sleeve.   
“Uh-” she shook off the moment of pause. “I’m working tonight. Did you wanna come with me?”   
“I gotta handle some stuff,” he said.   
“Like?”   
“Getting re-established,” he plainly replied. Not adding more to the statement, knowing she wanted to ask for details.   
She knew he didn’t want to say what that meant; but she did know what it might have implied. “Just be safe,” she settled on telling him that. “Can you do that? Please?”   
She’d never said ‘please’ before.   
“I’ll be fine.”   
She gave him a thin, nervous smile. “You better be.”   
  
There were a million things he wanted to say, and a million questions he wanted to ask; but avoided.   
  
He knew he had to tread carefully- especially since Rosa didn’t need him. That much was clear with how much her demeanor had changed over the last two years.   
Paying for everything, talking about  _ work _ before anything personal.    
She practically became Michael.    
She didn’t  _ need  _ him anymore.    
Maybe she never did.   
  
He thought about that while he drove to Sandy Shores in his newly stolen car. A rusted out Imponte Ruiner- nobody would miss it.   
The drive felt longer than it used to. He hadn’t returned to the trailer since coming back to San Andreas, and he was starting to see why.   
Why did he wait so long just to go home?

“‘Cause it wasn’t ‘home’ anymore,” he muttered under his breath in reply.    
Los Santos wasn’t home either-- just the Unicorn. Just the apartment he shared with Rosa.   
Driving through the Grand Senora Desert at least felt familiar. Passing up the Yellow Jack Inn (where he was presumably still banned), the Sandy Shores Airfield, and crossing into Sandy Shores itself.   
The neighborhood hadn’t gotten any better or any worse since his leave. The visible stagnation was at least a  _ small  _ comfort.   
The bar behind his trailer looked abandoned, that was different.   
And the trailer itself--   
Somehow much worse.   
He could hear the unintelligible rumble of heavy metal blaring through the trailer’s thin siding when he got out of his car.   
Some of the windows were broken, and he could see some motion inside in between what looked like trash bags taped up to keep out prying eyes.   
He grimaced at the state of his former abode and headed for the trailer next door.   
Ron’s, if the little worm was still alive.   
He banged his fist against the door a few times. “ _ Ron! _ ”   
No answer came, unlike before.   
Ron was always at Trevor’s beck and call. The very instant he had a demand, Ron came running... Wade too, but he didn’t live right next door.   
He’d just have to do this on his own, without his two idiots.   
  
He went back to his trailer, strode up the steps, and shoved the door open with ease- to see what was essentially the aftermath of a party. His furniture was all gone. Music still blaring despite most of the occupants being passed out in piles on the floor. The ones that weren’t unconscious were clearly high as shit. Twitchy, zoned out.   
Two of the awake ones having shameless sex on the dirty kitchen counter. Stopping only to make sure Trevor wasn’t a cop before they resumed.   
“Well fuck me,” Trevor muttered. They’d turned his fucking house into a drug den.   
Not a single familiar face in the bunch either.    
No sign of Ron or Wade among the group. He’d worry about that later.   
Trevor shook his head and headed for the bathroom. Empty, thankfully.    
He turned the plastic brackets on the edges of the (shockingly) still intact mirror, then carelessly threw the plexiglass aside. No longer necessary.   
Behind it, the hole in the wall where he kept his stash. Exactly as he left it.   
A small bag of crystal, which he shoved in his pocket. No use letting it go to waste.   
An ID with a fake name.   
A bag of cash.   
And a loaded gun, which he concealed in the back of his pants, hidden under his shirt.    
  
And that was all he needed from this place. It used to be home, but he didn’t feel the attachment anymore. Stepping out the door for the last time was easy.   
He headed for the car while trying to recall just how much money he had inside the plastic bag.    
He put it away over the span of the nine years since North Yankton; in case the FIB came knocking.    
After splattering Steve Haines all over the ferris wheel at Del Perro Pier, he wasn’t as worried about the feds.   
  
He had no plan now, all he knew was that he had achievable goals.   
Kill Franklin.   
Kill Michael.   
  
Might be easier said than done. But he could do it.   
And then he’d be living freely again and could-   
A truck turned down the road, and was on speed to pass him by; but the driver slammed the brakes as soon as they passed him.   
Trevor didn’t recognize the vehicle, and his hand went to the pistol in the back of his jeans as the truck reversed slowly so the driver could address him.   
Inside, a woman with short, hot pink hair. He recognized her immediately.   
“Trevor!?” She gaped.   
“... Auri?”   
“Holy shit-” she put her truck into park and got out to trot around to him- where she happily pulled him into a hug. “Fuck man, I heard you died!”   
“A lot of people did,” Trevor managed a laugh, happy to see a second person who was glad to see him alive. He hadn’t expected that. “Takes a lot to kill a stubborn old fucker like me!”   
She pulled back and gave him a clap on the shoulder. “Where’ve you been? Fuckin’ Ron doesn’t even know and that had me worried. I heard what happened to your place-” she gestured to the trailer. “Where you stayin’ at now?”   
“Got a hotel room in LS,” he replied. “My girl’s got me set up.”   
“Good,” she nodded.   
“Where  _ is _ Nervous Ron anyway?”    
“Last I heard? Rehab,” Auri shrugged. “Haven’t seen him in a long time. Wade either.”   
Shit. That threw a wrench in his plans.   
“Hey look, lemme give you my number. I stay out in LS these days with my girl,” Auri added. “She’s manager at the Vanilla Unicorn. You remember Nona?”   
“No.”   
“The mute lady I work with?”   
“ _ Ohhh _ ,” he nodded. He didn’t even realize she had a name- he never bothered to learn it. “Yeah.”   
“She’s got a lot of property around the state. Maybe she can hook you up if you’re looking for something more  _ underground. _ ”   
  
Tommie found it hard to focus on her tasking for the day.   
There was too much to think about.   
The hotel couldn’t be a permanent solution. But she wanted Trevor where she knew he’d be safe.   
The only other places were at the apartment or at the Unicorn.   
The Unicorn was off the table- because Amanda worked the bar. And was almost guaranteed to mention him to Michael if they were to speak.   
What to do, what to do…   
  
She hadn’t heard from Trevor in hours. Not since they parted ways at the hotel.    
Knee anxiously bouncing under her desk, Tommie fought the urge to constantly check her phone for new messages- and had to fight even harder to not check up on him. He likely wouldn’t answer if she did; if he didn’t want her to know what he was doing. And he likely didn’t.

_ “Haven’t heard from you today, you doing ok?” _   
Tommie grimaced when she read the text from Blake.  
With everything that was happening, and despite having seen Blake this morning before he left from work, she had all but forgotten that he existed  _ and  _ was her boyfriend.    
Shit… Trevor was back in her life and she had a boyfriend he still didn't know about.   
  
And that wasn't even the worst thing she had to tell him.  
  
She was hesitant to send any reply to Blake. But settled on little half-truths.  _ "Doing fine just busy"  
_ _ "Ok love you"  _ came a couple of minutes later.  
She wrote a painfully hollow, rushed response and felt instant, immense guilt for sending it.   
  
All this lack of sentiment for a stable relationship, just because Trevor came back into her life.  
“Ohhhhh,” She hunched forward, head in her hands. Old emotions coming back in full force. “What the fuck is wrong with me...?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A whole month in between updates holy shit  
> My doctor says I had a baby and I am therefore excused from imaginary deadlines.


End file.
